


Take My Hand

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [110]
Category: Doctor Who, Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen, akificlets, companion!Joan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1220101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sparrowsverse asked for: Elementary/Doctor Who, Joan is a former companion, but comes from another planet or different time period</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand

Joan glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide. Sherlock’s monologue faded into the background of her consciousness, a steady constant as everything else in the universe suddenly lurched to the left.  Joan exhaled, letting her minds eye unfocus, trying to find what it was that specifically snagged her attentions.  Everything slowed; the flap of a pigeon’s wing a glacial movement, the shout of a cabbie dopplering into insignificant.  Almost…almost…

"Watson?" she blinked, and everything sped up again with the violence of a car crash.

Sherlock’s eyes softened as he leaned in to peer intently at her.  ”Are you unwell?  You look…” he waved his begloved hands around.  ”Peaky.”

"Fine, I’m fine," Joan muttered, fumbling in her oversized purse.  "I just…I just need to make a call."

Sherlock’s phone appeared in his hand.  Joan shook her head, worry suddenly overtaking her.  ”No, I need, I need mine.”

In his hand, Sherlock’s phone buzzed, flashing an incoming text.  Sherlock held up the screen.  Joan was reminded, incongruously, that she had intended to book him in at the optometrists, the way he peered at things.  ”Check your key,” Sherlock read, enunciating each word.  ”Well, I guess that’s one way to…Watson?” 

Joan was rooting for the side pocket, almost tearing the seam as she pulled out her keyring.  One key that opened no door in the brownstone was glowing a warm orange-y red.

"Watson?"  his phone buzzed again.  He glanced at the screen.  "Run?"

Joan grabbed his hand.


End file.
